Standoff at Mustang Ridge (5 page)

She couldn’t argue with that. “But eventually he’ll know I’ve lied.”

“Yeah, and by then it might be too late. Just because the two gunmen failed at kidnapping you, it doesn’t mean he won’t send someone else.”

That was a stark reminder that Sophie didn’t need. “I have to do something to stop you from being in danger.”

“Too late. We’re both targets, and despite what the gunman said about wanting only you, I don’t believe that for a minute. Any of those shots they fired could have killed either or both of us.”

Sophie knew that, of course, but it somehow made it worse to hear the words spoken aloud. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked, and she felt the tears burn her eyes.

She hated the tears. And herself. She had made such a mess of things.

“I don’t want you talking to Travis,” Royce insisted. “Especially not alone. And I don’t want another apology,” he snapped when she opened her mouth.

Sophie had indeed been about to repeat how sorry she was, but words weren’t going to make this all go away.

Royce cursed when his attention landed on the tears she was trying to blink back, and he caught onto her arm and had her sit in the chair next to his desk. He dropped down across from her.

“I don’t want tears, either,” he grumbled. Then he huffed. “Crying won’t help.” His voice was softer now, but it was loaded with frustration.

Sophie bit her lip, trying to force herself not to cry. It didn’t make it easier that Royce was right in her face, mere inches away. Not only could she see those intense green eyes, she could see every detail of his features.

And she took in his scent, too.

He smelled like the winter woods mixed with his own musky warmth.

That scent, his
warmth,
stirred something in her mind. Just a glimpse of a memory. Of Royce and her falling into bed. For that split second, she could feel the mattress against her back. And more. She could feel Royce’s weight on her. The sensation of that hit her hard, and she choked back a sound that was part gasp, part moan.

She shouldn’t be reacting or voicing that reaction to something that was probably just a mixed-up dream. After all, when she’d awakened that morning, Royce hadn’t been on top of her.

“Sophie?” she heard Royce say. “Where are you right now? Because, believe me, this conversation is far more important than anything you’re thinking about.”

True. But it still took her a moment to push the sensations aside. That, and the blasted tears that kept coming to her eyes.

“I’m not usually a crier,” she mumbled. There was no way she’d address his comment about what was on her mind. Because
Royce
was what was on her mind.

“Well, you’re probably not used to coming so close to dying.” He paused. “Most people would cry in your situation. It’s just that tears bother me. My mom was a crier,” he added so quickly that his words ran together.

Sophie remembered her father saying something about Royce’s parents having a bad marriage before Mrs. McCall passed away from breast cancer.

“Tears remind you of your mother’s illness?” she speculated.

“No. They just remind me of how unhappy she was. And we’re getting off the subject here.” He caught onto her shoulders. “What aren’t you telling me, Sophie? Are you keeping something secret about the night in the motel? You said we didn’t have sex—”

“We didn’t.” She stopped and stared at him.

“Did we?” he pressed.

Sophie finally had to shake her head. “I honestly don’t remember.” That required a deep breath. “I have huge gaps in my memory from that night. And that’s never happened to me before. I don’t get drunk and sleep with people I hardly know.”

“Me, either.”

She hadn’t meant to make a soft yeah-right mumble, but it just popped out. With Royce’s hot cowboy looks, she was betting he’d had a one-night stand. Or a dozen.

“I don’t sleep with women who aren’t my type,” he clarified. But then he cursed, waved that off. “It’s not an insult. I’m sure I’m not your type, either.”

He wasn’t. Well, not her usual type anyway, but Sophie could still feel herself go warm when she thought of his kisses. Now
those
she remembered. And his body. That’s because he’d been stark naked when she’d woken up in bed with him.

“There’s something else you’re not telling me,” Royce insisted.

Good grief. The man had ESP, or maybe his lawman’s instincts were kicking in.

He tapped her right temple. “What is going on in your head? What are you keeping from me? Because I can promise you, it won’t help. I need to hear everything that happened. Everything you remember because it could help us figure out how to bring Travis down.”

She desperately wanted to stop Travis. But freedom from Travis came with a huge price tag.

“Can I tell you something off the record?” she asked.

Royce looked at her as if her ears were on backward. “Excuse me?”

“Off the record,” she repeated. “As in you don’t put it in a report, and you don’t mention a word of it to anyone, even your brother.”

Dead silent, Royce continued to stare at her. “What the hell is going on?”

Sophie didn’t back down. Yes, she was still trembling from the attack, but this was critical. “You won’t tell anyone,” she insisted.

He stared. She waited. And the seconds crawled by before Royce finally nodded.

Sophie searched his eyes for any sign he was lying. She didn’t see anything but the renewed anger and frustration. Too bad. She’d rather that than an arrest warrant.

“When I was going through Travis’s files,” she said, and she had to take another deep breath and give herself some time to choose her words, “I found some papers that could possibly paint my father in a bad light.”

Yes, that was sugarcoating it, but she had to be careful with what she said.

He blinked, paused and then cursed. “Bad light? You mean he did something illegal.” And it wasn’t a question.

Suddenly the tears were gone and she knew what she had to do. Sophie moved closer because she wanted him to see the determination in her own eyes. Determination not to say or confirm anything that would put her father behind bars.

“I love my father,” she settled for saying. “And the only reason I just told you about the papers was so you’d have a complete picture.”

Royce shook his head and took her by her shoulders again. “There’s nothing complete about that. What do these papers have to do with the fact that someone tried to kill us?”

Nothing.

She hoped.

But Sophie didn’t get a chance to say that. She heard the doorknob rattle, and her gaze flew in that direction.

And her heart went to her knees.

Travis was standing there, looking right at them through the reinforced glass. Except he was giving them more a glare, and he hadn’t missed the close contact between Royce and her. In fact, Royce’s hands had been on her.

Royce shoved her behind him. In the same motion, he drew his gun.

“Call off your cowboy, Sophie,” Travis said, his voice a dangerous warning. His eyes were narrowed to slits. “Or things are going to get ugly fast.”

Chapter Five

Royce hadn’t expected to agree with Travis, but the man was right about one thing—things were about to get ugly.

Travis was clearly upset. Royce was already past that stage, and he glared back at the man who was glaring at him.

“I’ll go with him,” Sophie insisted. “I don’t want a fight.”

Well, Royce did. He wanted to beat this moron to a pulp if he was the one who’d hired those gunmen. And Royce was leaning in the direction of that
if
being highly likely.

“You’re not going with him,” Royce insisted, and he shot her a warning glance over his shoulder. “Stay put. I’ll handle this. And then we’ll finish that conversation about your father.”

Sophie swallowed hard, but he wasn’t sure she would actually listen to him. She was turning out to be a lot more stubborn than he’d thought she would be, and his expectations in that area had been pretty darn high.

With his gun drawn and ready, Royce went to the door, unlocked it and threw it open. He gave Travis a quick once-over and didn’t see any visible weapons. However, the man was wearing a thick winter coat, and he could hide lots of things under that.

“I heard about the shooting, and I got here as fast as I could,” Travis volunteered. “How’s Sophie?”

Royce ignored him and his question. “You don’t mind if I frisk you for weapons, huh?” Royce asked, and he didn’t wait for an answer or permission.

He took Travis by the arm, pulled him inside and practically shoved him against the desk. Royce also kicked the door shut and relocked it. He doubted Travis would turn and run, but he didn’t want to risk those gunmen storming the place while he was distracted with Travis.

“This isn’t necessary,” Travis complained.

“Humor me,” Royce fired back. It didn’t take him long to locate the gun in the slide holster at Travis’s back, and Royce disarmed him.

Travis whirled back around to face him. “I have a permit to carry that concealed.”

Royce would check on that to make sure it was true. “Your permit doesn’t extend to bringing weapons, concealed or otherwise, in the sheriff’s office. Especially since you’re a suspect in an attempted-murder investigation.”

“What?” Travis’s hands went on his hips, and his attention shot to Sophie. “You think I had something to do with this attack?”

“Did you?” Sophie asked.

Travis was breathing through his mouth now, and his face was flushed. In fact, everything about him looked ill-tempered and out of sorts. The wind had chapped his face and mouth and torn through his normally styled reddish-brown hair. He still had on his usual fancy rich clothes—a suit, matching overcoat and shoes that probably cost more than Royce’s entire wardrobe—but everything looked askew.

Maybe because his murder-for-hire plot hadn’t worked.

“No, of course I didn’t have anything to do with the attack,” Travis told her. “You’re my fiancée, Sophie. I don’t have a reason to hurt you.”

“Really?” And Royce didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of that one-word question. “She’s your
ex-fiancée,
and you assaulted her when she told you she was carrying another man’s child.”

A muscle jumped in Travis’s jaw, and his narrowed dust-colored eyes shifted from Sophie to Royce. “I was upset. Stunned. You would have reacted the same way if you’d been in my position.”

“No. Hell, no, I wouldn’t. I don’t hit women even when I’m stunned and upset.” Royce stepped closer. Since he was a good six inches taller than Travis, Royce hoped he looked as riled and intimating as he felt. “I especially wouldn’t hire two dirt wads to kidnap or kill her.”

“I didn’t do that!” Travis insisted. He tried to move toward Sophie, but Royce blocked his path. Travis huffed. “I’m here to apologize, Sophie. I love you, and I still want us to get married.”

A burst of air left Sophie’s mouth. “You slapped me.”

“Only because of those pictures.” He shifted uneasily. “And because of the pregnancy. Honestly, how did you expect me to react? I know you slept with him before we got engaged, but it still stung.”

Royce didn’t miss the way Travis said
him
. As if Royce were something lower than pond scum. Well, Royce didn’t think too highly of him, either.

Of course, there was something a whole lot bigger in Travis’s weasely justification for his reaction. There was that lying part about Royce and Sophie sleeping together.

Or
maybe
it was a lie.

Sophie had admitted to having blank spots in her memory. Royce had them, too, but he figured even if he was drunk off his butt, he’d remember sleeping with a woman like Sophie.

“Did you hear me, Sophie?” Travis said. “I was jealous that you’d slept with him, and I lost control for just that split second.”

Sophie opened her mouth, no doubt to spill the baby lie, but Royce gave a “keep quiet” glare. Travis would learn the truth soon enough, but Royce wanted a few answers first. And he hoped his request for silence in that area didn’t have anything to do with tormenting Travis.

Though it probably did.

Even if by some miracle Travis was innocent of hiring those gunmen, Royce still wanted the moron to squirm for slapping Sophie.

“You told Sophie you had pictures of me and her,” Royce tossed out there.

Travis nodded. “Someone sent them to me. I don’t know who,” he said before Royce could ask. “There was no return address on the envelope, and it was postmarked from Amarillo.”

“I want to see them.” Because seeing them might tell Royce who took them. That was the start to finding out why, and it might shed some light on the attack. It might also prove that Travis was lying about the photos and the hit men.

“They’re at my office,” Travis explained.

Royce blocked him again when he tried to step around him and get closer to Sophie. “Call someone. Have them brought over.”

Travis clearly didn’t like that particular order, or maybe his increased scowl was for the body block Royce was putting on him. “There’s no one in my office right now. I’ll bring them back later today.”

“You could do that,
if
I don’t arrest you,” Royce reminded him. “Right now, I’m thinking your arrest is a given.”

The man’s shoulders snapped back. “You don’t have any proof to make an arrest. Because there’s not any evidence against me. Sophie?” Travis mumbled some profanity. “Can you tell this cowboy I wouldn’t hurt you? I just want to work things out with you.”

“Work out things?” Royce questioned. “What about the pictures and the baby?”

“I forgive her.” But Travis’s teeth were clenched when he said it, and that wasn’t a forgiving look in his eyes.

Before Royce could stop her, Sophie walked closer. She stopped at Royce’s side and kept her attention nailed to her scowling ex. “I’m not sure I can trust you, Travis.”

“You can’t,” Royce insisted.

But Sophie and Travis kept their eyes locked. “I can regain your trust,” he assured her.

Royce was about to disagree, but something caught his attention. A dark blue car came to a stop directly behind his truck that was parked in front of the office. He didn’t recognize the vehicle, but he knew the two men who stepped from it.